Caretaker

Watching D-Day anniversary events on t.v. reminds me of my trip to the grounds 15 years ago. It is impossible to be there and not be awed by the bravery of all the young men that invaded Normandy that day. The view out to sea and the beauty of the uniformity of all the markers made everyone in our group fall to silence. That silence stayed with for a long period of time after we left and headed back to our hotel for the evening. There are spot on this planet, that hold history that is so large, that all following generations understand the importance.

I have decided that a good way to cope with John's Alzheimer is to start writing a daily log of the craziness. It will give me a place to unload the events and start fresh and hopefully make me a better caretaker. Some days it is with us and some days it almost doesn't exist.

Yesterday, a more than nutty day. In mid afternoon, John walked around the yard with Ahman and me and repeatedly wanted to know what happened to the broom that is normally in the garden shed. Because losing items is a daily theme I usually ignore these conversations or answer with something like, "It's around, no one would steal our broom.". An hour later he happily reported he found the broom in the garden shed. In the meantime, I put garden soil, some sand and some fertilizer in the wheel barrow. John helped me mix the three and broke up the lumps with the back of the shovel. I stopped at 2:35 and Ahman and I left to go pick up Mira at school.

I got back home and my wheel barrow was missing. John had dumped the mixture in the back of our fence as waste. I took the wheel barrow and loaded up the dirty again, found most of it usable. In the meantime, the children wanted a snack after viewing the chickens for a few minutes. It was decided that the egg salad sandwiches and milk would be a picnic and they would eat them outside. John is always amazed at how much children can eat and have a conversation about didn't they get lunch today. These food conversations are from this mother's mouth because I heard similar ones from her. I assure John that children eat every two hours. Of course, he then feels it is OK and he is apologetic about sounding petty. All the while he is sure that Shuchi is pick up the children at 3:30 because she had done that on Wednesday. I am repeatedly explaining that this is Friday and we are back to the normal schedule.

I taught the children how to identify diseased leaves on my drawf orchard trees and ask them to help me pick the bad ones off. It must be the heat of last week but there were numerous coddle moth nests and apple maggots infectations everywhere. After a period time and much wonder in finding the correct ones to remove, all which were put in the chicken coop for the chickens to eat, it was time for watering the trees. Nothing interests children more than a garden hose.

I can tell that John is still upset with himself about throwing out my mixed soil and he is edgy now about everything. Watching the children about the water is now his concern. I suggest that is time to walk Daisy and then he should fix us a glass of wine. It is five o'clock.

Sitting there on the little patio near the chicken coop, watch the children with the hose moving tree to tree, Daisy laying near us, I said, to John, "How is it that at our age we are in charge of two children, five chickens and one dog?" He said, "Well, do you think it's too much?"
"No, we could sit in a condo, eat out and get bored like some retired people. I will choice this over that life."